


Somedays I Feel That I Am Bigger Than Mountains

by Basic_instinct40



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Dancing and Singing, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basic_instinct40/pseuds/Basic_instinct40
Summary: Quentin Coldwater is belting his fucking heart out to Billie Marten’s masterpiece Peach, because he feels that shit deep down in his soul. He does it in faded Fillory and Further boxers that Eliot has tried no less than sixteen times, by his count, to throw out, but like a bad habit, they keep appearing around his boyfriend’s delicious thighs.





	Somedays I Feel That I Am Bigger Than Mountains

Quentin Coldwater is belting his fucking heart out to Billie Marten’s masterpiece _Peach_ , because he feels that shit deep down in his soul. He does it in faded Fillory and Further boxers that Eliot has tried no less than sixteen times, by his count, to throw out, but like a bad habit, they keep appearing around his boyfriend’s delicious thighs. Quentin sings along to “Blue Sea, Red Sea” on an early Sunday afternoon while he attempts to clean the living room, because like Eliot is so fond of telling him, “I’m not the one who’s a hoarder that has to keep every single piece of paper that comes in contact with me Q. Who the fuck even keeps paper receipts anymore?”

Quentin had just sang at him, of course off-key, while pushing Eliot out the door of their Venice loft. _“I stop and listen sometimes / Plug myself into your eyes / And I can see what you see and I like it._ ” Eliot rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but truthfully, he hadn't seen Quentin this happy in quite some time. He almost wants to cancel on Margo and say that the portal wouldn't open, but he knows that his boyfriend needs this time to himself to recalibrate. He presses a kiss to Quentin’s mouth, then forehead, telling him that he’ll actually clean the living room when he gets back.

“Ha-fucking-ha, asshole,” Quentin replies standing on his toes to nip at Eliot’s bottom lip. “Ohhh, bring me back a street hotdog,” his eyes lit up at the prospect. “I want one from Brooklyn’s Ikea,” he specifies. Eliot dramatically screams something back about E. coli and, “How could someone like me fall in love with an uncultured super-nerd like you?,” while slamming the door, but Quentin just chuckles, turning up the music, knowing that Eliot will come home with a mile-long list of annoyances and grievances against Margo and still call it one of their best afternoons. It was just the nitpicking Midwestern in him. The more you love someone, the more you complained about them and Eliot loved Quentin so damn much.

Quentin loves Eliot too, but he’s not about to sort the clothes by color no matter how many times the taller man threatened to end it all if he has to watch Quentin shove their clothes into the washing machine, fabric and color be damned. “Well, you aren't here to see it now,” he says smugly to the empty loft, swaying softly to the music. _“Sleepy daydream boy / This world is no man's toy,_ ” Quentin mouths along with song. He does leave Eliot’s nicer silk shirts and work pants alone so that they can be dry-cleaned. He doesn't want to make his boyfriend cry.

  
He continues on his day much in the same matter, lazily cleaning and unskillfully singing. He gets distracted more than once by books and clothes that he had forgotten about, but tries to make good on his promise to functionally clean the house. _“And we have things we don't need / We are waiting without any one,”_ he sings as he puts away what must be Eliot’s tenth dark purple pocket square, in what he hopes is the correct drawer. _“We just feel the pressure / The pressure of days / We were sad / Upon the table where the food is hot.”_

Quentin opens the windows as afternoon drifts into evening, he dances clumsily while mopping, knowing that Eliot will re-do everything with magic while Quentin is at work tomorrow, but that for the sake of Quentin’s mental health, they both let him clean the loft while dancing to his favorite music. Eliot had tried to show him more than once the “proper cleaning techniques” by Patricia Waugh, but Quentin’s ADHD mind could never keep up and he was reassigned to the role of Eliot’s helper. _“Your steady behavior / It's all in your nature / I call you my neighbor at number 9.”_

Sooner or later Eliot would come home, no matter how hard Margo begged him to stay the night in Fillory and Quentin would stay up on the couch waiting for him, no matter the late hour or how early he had to be at his repair shop. Eliot would be high on some new strain of weed that Josh would’ve saved just for him and he would attempt to hide his frown at the now-orderly stack of receipts that Quentin had bound by magic, because no, he wasn't going to throw them out. If Ted Coldwater had educated his son on nothing else, he had taught him that an adult saved their receipts -- **_just in case!_** They would lightly bicker back and forth while Quentin would help a now-lightweight Eliot when it came to mind-altering drugs since they had both quit drinking after Quentin came back home and Eliot only smoked with Margo. Both men would undress and lay on the newly cleaned sheets, wrapped in each other and the home they had made.

Quentin is looking forward to those sweet moments between him and Eliot later on tonight. Moments that, during his lowest points, his broken mind tried to convince him would never happen. He closes his eyes and spread his arms out wide, singing loudly, _“I'm a fish in a blue sea and I like it.”_ Quentin more than deserves to enjoy the here and now as well. He knows that now and he relishes it. Dancing and cleaning his home the old fashioned way while singing to his favorite album is Quentin’s here and now. _“And it's all good 'cause I feel it too / Hanging around with nothing to do / Make friends with the angel that blessed you / Maybe together we get in the good.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.


End file.
